Lovers in Space.

The farther you pull back,

The less it all seems to mean,

But looking in on a moment,

Bears all the significance.

 

The lights of a moving carousel,

the smell of pine and fried dough,

Smiles that wont go away,

Standing on the grassy dew covered hill and looking up at the fabric above,’

and wondering.

And not having to wonder alone.

 

Sky rocketing through the clouds and weaving among comets towards the vast uncertainty of the big ocean of reality,

Peering out from the cramped cockpit at a flinging tendril of star energy,

Not minding the close spaces or the empty floating candy wrappers in the cabin,

Or the crumbs, or the love.

There are filters after all.

 

Walking across alien landscapes and marveling together at odd temples covered with blue lichen,

Reaching for each other under a green sky,

and being human in a strange, futuristic land,

on another planet,

in the emptiness of all space,

two specks in the multitudes,

Knowing that when you pull away it all seems like nothing,

But here and now,

Is all that is.

all that is needed.

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Idealism

I look at myself and wonder why, 

It has to be such a lonely road to die,

Lonelier still to a life that’s true,

Knowing what I know without you,

Wishing for something just beyond,

Hoping that it hasn’t already gone.

I can feel what I must do,

And it might not be nothing new,

Makes grumpy stew

But I keep walking it without you,

Staring unblinking into the darkness.

Bigger things on my mind.

Okay, so lets say that I find someone who I love, whatever love really means, and lets say I spend my time with that person and we hold hands and laugh and carry on with fulfilling each others’ sexual fantasies  and all that jazz. I know eventually what that leads to is having some kind of offspring, and that involves creating a new person, and that person makes more people, and more people keep making more people and that keeps fucking over the earth until there are no resources left and everything dies.

I guess there is adoption, but that’s like the same thing.

I mean it’s a selfish thing to say that what genes i put in are gonna lead to the kid who grows up to solve all the fuckn’ problems. most people don’t try to solve any problems.

No, it;s better off that I just don’t get involved, if I just don’t look for anyone, I’ll just devote my time to my work, writing things and traveling, and writing about traveling. making up stories and commenting on the status quo with my own observation and ending up poor homeless and broke, but maybe somewhere cool where they still respect hobos.. maybe Australia, or Iceland.

I’ll just devote myself to something, and even if it changes nothing at least I can say, “hey I did that stuff at least”

Maybe when I’m dead people will see some stuff in something somewhere. After the internet is gone and some some scrap of paper with something I scribbled on when I felt the pangs of loneliness and the crushing embrace of the voidy aspects of existence, maybe someone will find that and suddenly the conundrum of their life is made clear and they have some kind of zen style enlightenment and that person goes on to lead what remains of humanity back to a civilization but without the folly of our ways and that awesome civilization, inspired by a poem I wrote, goes on to create technology and culture that our primitive, unenlightened minds could never comprehend like…fuckn…mind..wave…power, or maybe they discover the latent powers humanity has that we just forgot.

Maybe they go on to space  somehow and create new planets with different evolutionary timelines that lead to all wonderment of fantastical species of plants and animals, like talking dogs or sentient daises, and all the people aren’t ashamed of themselves and run around the grass all naked in the sun and shit because no one is sexualized or unsightly in the awesome culture of people and sentient daisy-dogs, but like all the people still get it on (consensually) however they want because they can all tell eachothers’ thoughts. Stuff we would think is really weird and taboo would be totally cool because we are all just temporary beings in a fluctuating world…and..

well that’s why I think we should be seeing other people.

Activity Update

I salute you. Thanks to all my followers and readers, you are great!

poster

So, For those of you who have been waiting for more Sci Fi fox or Good & Evil, I should not, but I must make the same unfortunate excuse as anyone who makes comics, that it takes a while. Since I’m not much in the way of drawing, It’s not that I’m working on one page for all this time, but I hope to put up many pages at once at once rather than keep the story so segmented for both. Issue 2 of G & E will be done soon. It’s a couple pages longer, But I will reboot the past issue with it.

Anyway, if you like my writing at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know. If you don’t like my writing, well, no one asked you. If you don’t have the attention span to read, then I guess I can only blame you for being uncultured swine. Since the majority of people rarely read past the first sentence, this is kind of an inside joke right now between you and me (hehe).
I made this poster, more comics will be soon, for now I leave you with space police:

 

 

A walking contradiction.

 

Grasping at a dying whips of youth while becoming a man,

Feeling like a child,

Feeling like an old man.

 

Gods am I a fool,

He who speaks swiftly and with full intention at a moment,

But stutters and spits,

or says nothing,

at all at the right ones.

And an anger.

 

A frustration, a sadness, a looming specter of fear.

As I brazenly go, skipping with oblivion.

Holding on to nothing but the bridges I make as I go.

A plan uncharted and unmade before me.

I slide myself through comfortable channels,

And slide past the difficulties.

Finding who happens to be in my way and making

intimate handshakes of vice.

Letting Love pass by.

 

It speaks in a language I do not know.

 

I know only the softness of thighs,

The breath of yours on mine,

The mind beyond the movements.

I feel them as real as our hearts beating

I feel them in sighs and gasps

And I hold them in my arms.

but I forget to catch.

And say nothing as you go back to your mental world

I’m caught in a web of assumptions

trails of possibility.

 

And a bitter wave hardens me from the inside.

My thoughts like tree rot spread through my core

Until I hate to look upon you, until I hate others

I wear my bitter jealousy in a smile.

Waiting for clarity.

 

Lost in contradictions.

 

 

The scarf is proof.

I scrape and slide along through my coarse life,

While you seem to glide so smooth,

Directing your off glances like a stabbing knife,

Puncturing any effort I desire to smooth-

-the wrinkled sandpaper of our entanglement,

Which seemed to burn softly just past,

Now we sit and pretend our arrangement,

never did come to pass.

 

We move like chess pieces now,

Avoiding what we knew we felt,

How you pretend it never happened

I’m grinding my head with doubt.

 

I can understand your convenience,

if nothing had occurred,

but my god! I hate the barrier we’ve created,

where through it can penetrate no delicate words.

 

The well building inside me could force that barrier down

one sentence could batter away my mystery

the gulf of our worlds once more solid ground,

walk to your shores again without guards or history,

Without dismissals or strategy.

 

bare to the world once more.

 

But I am a spineless creature,

meek and stupid to this game

a fowled and awkward preacher

I can only hope that you are the same.

 

I can at least take solace in this,

When our passions were then flesh and groping thought,

Our nations entwined like people

and only our human treaty was what we sought.

 

The soft scarlet silk unwrapped and flattened,

is proof…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Years are Dishes

There was nothing more comforting then when I would return home from work and see her washing dishes. Sometimes I would have the day off or she would be the one to return home after me, but after we made dinner she would always go to that place by the sink after the meal. She wouldn’t say a word, she would just begin the task as if it were a meditation. The water flowing across the dishes and her hands busy in the suds across the smooth porcelain. I would help her dry, stand next to her and put things away, but I could never take my eyes off of her there, her eyes down on the task. Content with her apron on to keep her outfit from getting wet, tied in a nice bow on the small of her back.

I could have watched her for hours if we ever made enough dirty dishes. But the moments would usually never be too long. I could feel myself, as I wiped each dish,  gravitate closer. It was intoxicating to see her cool brown lips, her tan skin, her curves and her black hair. I wanted to be able to reach into her head and feel the thoughts she had, sense what she was thinking and lounge in whatever wanderings her brain took her.

I would move closer to the sink, dry with an impulsory motion and place dish on dish with a lightness that pervaded all other tasks of the day. Eventually, the hollow warmth that would fill my stomach, chest, and diaphragm would grow. When I felt the soft skin under her sleeve brush against mine, the curvature of her hip nestle with mine. I still could not look away, but she would be set unmoving on her task. Perhaps a smile would grace those sacred lips from some joke or story from another time and place.

I was there, she knew it, but she would perform the task as if I was not. It only streamlined my desire for her.

And as she handed me the last dish I could dry, I would do so and step behind her. Hold her in my arms, feel her form in sinc with mine, her hips, and curves, yet her mind just beyond my reach. She would always giggle and shiver with excitement and warmth. I would smile and coo before finding myself kissing her cheek from behind, her neck, her shoulder. And while I did that, I could tell she smiled, I could tell she waited for this, I could tell that this was her favorite part of the day, because it was mine, and we were one in that moment.

And yet she would keep washing. Her hands in the suds, the motion of her shoulders between mine.

She still would be silent, smile and even sigh at times. I would be unable to contain myself in those moments, the curse of my body in her presence. But a blessing for those moments together.

And when she turned around. Dear God.

Now after all this time…I can still close my eyes and feel…

I can feel the physical youth of it, but, sometimes I hear things, I feel the silent. “I love you”, “Stay with me”, “never leave” “where have you been?” “I’m scared” “hold me closer” “why has it been so long?” “Who am I?” “Why is life so short?” “Who are you?” “How did we find each other?”

All the words that could not be said or heard in those times come to me with clarity. Like mortar to fill the cracks between us it was not words that bound us, but…dishes.

It makes my breath draw like a cold spring.